


Roots

by justbygrace



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 10:27:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10683405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbygrace/pseuds/justbygrace
Summary: Two vignettes in the same 'verse.





	1. Chapter 1

"Hold up, mate, you left your wallet at your table." The South London accent stopped John Noble in his tracks, eyes sliding closed for a brief moment at the sound of home.

Turning back, he beheld the speaker, a woman in her early twenties, blonde with perhaps a touch too much make-up; a quiet sort of beautiful that he was instantly drawn to and wanted to know more about. Taking the few steps towards her, he accepted his wallet from her outstretched fingers. 

"Thanks! Would have between lost without this thing. Got all my American currency and passport in there and Donna might actually have a coronary if I left it somewhere. She did once, when we were in some tiny town in the middle of nowhere. Lost us several hours to go back and get it." Aware that he was rambling, he cut off and gave her a sheepish smile.

Despite his verbal diarrhea, she was grinning back, eyes sparkling with amusement. "Glad to have saved your arse then. Donna your PR then?"

John nodded, "And my sister, unfortunately." It was inevitable that she would recognize his face - the talent for the evening at her place of work - but sometimes he wished for a bit of anonymity even in the midst of a tour; there were only so many napkins he could sign without losing his mind.

"How did you find yourself agreeing to perform at this place?" She gestured vaguely, encompassing the motley collection of tables and chairs, posters of middle-aged wannabees, and several strategically placed neon Budweiser signs. 

"At this point in the tour, I don't bother asking. I just want to do my thing and get it over with." Suddenly aware that made him sound like grade-A arsehole, he tried to backtrack. "I just meant that...."

"It's okay. I get it." Her smile was genuine and forgiving. "You probably have groupies hanging all over you. I'll let you go."

She half-turned and John stared after her in shock. The truth was that he did have his fair share of groupies (though Jack, his very talented drummer, had more), but her willingness to give him space was definitely not something he came across often. He wasn't ready to give it up quite yet.

"Um, listen," he started and then paused when she turned around and gave him her full attention. There was something so genuine in her eyes that for a second he couldn't catch his breath. "Will you be around after? I, uh, I, afterwards, I..." 

"I get off at eleven," she said, smiling up at him and saving him from his stuttering mess of a sentence.

"Good. Yeah, that's, that's good." 

"If you still want to chat after, you can meet me out back then. And good luck." She smiled and disappeared behind the counter and through the swinging doors.

John watched her go for a solid minute before Donna was hollering at him to get his skinny self into gear. Wandering in her general direction, he let his mind wander to a future that didn't include tours and fans and the open road. The band had been Jack's idea back when they were young and had no intention of settling down and it had been fun at first. But this was not John's ideal life and he was ready to get off the circuit. Maybe he could convince Jack to go solo. 

Listening to Donna's pre-show rules with half an ear, John enjoyed the mental picture of a cozy fireplace and his own place and a beautiful blonde with whiskey colored eyes. It was only Donna's hand connecting to the back of his head that brought his mind back to earth. He sighed and focused in on the last few of Donna's rules (no accepting anyone's underwear, stick to the set list, and try keeping the broken hearts to a minimum), rolling his eyes at the bantering between his best friend and his sister. This was his life and there was no point in wishing for things to be different. 

When the doors opened and the mob of females rushed the stage, John allowed himself to be caught up in the adrenaline of the stage and the lights and the crowd. He used their energy to subsidize his own and by the time the first song was done, he was riding high. There was a tiny part of him that was watching the performance from the outside, that was curled up on a sofa somewhere with the love of his life, but he tried to ignore it. 

He was halfway through the set when he caught sight of her slipping in the back of the crowd from the main bar area. His eyes were drawn to her immediately, that blonde hair was like a beacon calling him home, and he nearly forgot the words of his most popular song - a minuscule slip that no one but Jack (and probably Donna) caught. He couldn't take his eyes off of her, tracking her progress through the crowd until she came to a stop beside a pillar, looking like she was trying not to be noticed, but it wasn't working because she was drawing a lot of male attention. It was all John could do to stay where he was and not fling down his microphone and drag her out of there, somewhere all those other males weren't. 

How he got through the rest of the songs was a miracle because he didn't pay a bit of attention to what he was doing. He took a half second to thank the gods of music that he had done this so often because he was singing purely on habit. She disappeared back into the bar area in the middle of his last song, her eyes locking with his for a moment right before she exited the room. The crowd went wild when they were finished, demanding encores and he got through them with a great deal less than his usual enthusiasm. 

The meet and greet afterwards was a burden John bore badly. He had a date with a woman whose name he realized he didn't know and he had no time for crowds of adoring females who kept thrusting their chests at him to sign. He tried to shuffle as many of them towards Jack as possible and ignored the dark looks Donna was sending him. He checked his watch compulsively and five minutes before eleven he ducked through the crowd and was out the back door before Donna could catch him.

She was already there, leaning against the fence and just lighting a smoke. When she saw him, she offered an embarrassed half smile. 

"Sorry, I was going to finish this before you showed up." 

"No, it's okay. I don't mind. I would if I could, but asthma as a kid, you know. I'm John, by the way." 

She laughed. "Yeah, I know. I'm Rose. Rose Tyler."

"Rose Tyler." Now that he knew her name he wanted to treasure it, to roll it around his mouth until he learned the taste of it, the edges and corners, how it felt against his teeth and tongue. "Good to meet you, Rose."

"Didn't think you'd come." She looked away. "Out here, I mean. You were good. Singing. You sing well."

He stared down at her, at the way the moonlight reflected back to him off the individual strands of her hair. "Of course I would. Couldn't wait to see you again." 

"Yeah?" Rose looked up with a half-smile, disbelieving but desperately wanting to believe.

He had a reputation for speaking like he was getting paid for it, but in the face of her uncertainty he was lost. Not knowing what else to do, he reached out and took her free hand, intertwining their fingers, and grinning at her. It seemed to be what she was waiting for because she relaxed, her smile becoming more open, the wrinkles leaving her forehead.

"What brings you to America?" he spoke into the new calm.

Her eyes shuttered for a brief moment and he was afraid he'd said the wrong thing, but she relaxed again almost immediately, fingers tightening in his. "Adventure. I wanted a new horizon. Thought this would make a good change. Sometimes you have to take a chance, you know?"

"Yeah." He hadn't taken his eyes off of her since he had stepped outside and he couldn't now. "Yeah, I do know."

Where he got the courage he would never know - perhaps he was drunk on moonlight, perhaps it was her hand in his, but he bent down and pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth, gently, quickly. Drawing back he watched her. He hadn't asked, she might not like it, he might have crossed a boundary he shouldn't have, but then she was grinning and using their joined hands to pull him closer, resting her head on his shoulder. 

"So," she said after a moment, "Where are you headed to next?"

Her tone was light, prepared for whatever he had to say, and he recognized it for what it was; a girl who had been left behind, a woman who was used to disappointment and moving on. The world fell into place and his arms came up to tentatively wrap around her waist, anchoring her to him.

"Wherever you are." He knew there would be consequences, fall-out from Jack and Donna, but he didn't care, not then and likely, not ever. All he wanted in life was right here in his arms.

Rose tipped her head back, studied him like she was trying to read his inner thoughts. At length she seemed satisfied because she suddenly grinned up at him. "Ever been to Barcelona?"

He couldn't help his answering grin. "Nope, but I hear it is is beautiful this time of year."

"Me too." A mischievous glint entered her eyes. "Until then, want to come back to my place?"

That didn't even require thought. "Yep!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I actually originally wrote this part first and then got requests to write more so I wrote how they met. I have no plans to write more.

“What would you rather fight, a zombie or a vampire?” John Noble looked up at Rose from where his head was resting in her lap.

Her fingers paused from where they were carding through his hair and at his displeased noise, chuckled and continued her ministrations. "Depends on whether I was alone and if I had the necessary supplies with me. A zombie might be easier, I think. You can just smash it or run it over with your car. A vampire you need specific items. Plus their speed is something that would be hard to combat."

"You've put a lot of thought into this." John grinned at her, turning his head so he could scratch behind his ears. His friends would probably make fun of him if they could see him getting petted like an oversized cat, but they would change their tune if they could feel Rose's hands through their hair. Not that they would ever get that chance, of course. He was a bit, ahem, jealous where Rose Tyler was concerned.

"Not much to do when I was younger," she said absently, scratching her nails along his scalp obligingly.

"Yeah?" John forced himself to keep his voice light. Rose tended to freeze when the subject of her childhood came up. The two of them had been dating for almost six months - they'd met when his band played at the club where she worked - but Rose was very reticent when it came to her background and usually changed the subject when it came up.

"Yeah, we spent a lot of time playing these would-you-rather games." She laughed, but it sound self-deprecating.

"We?" He wanted to know everything there was to know about this beautiful woman who had come out of nowhere and held his hand. He had come from a life marked by tragedy, but it had never pushed her away, instead she comforted him when he cried and held on when he tried to push her away. He loved her with a fierceness that surprised him sometimes and he desperately wished he could find whoever it was who had caused her to hate herself so very much.

"You know, Jimmy, Mickey, Shareen." She spoke matter-of-factly like these were names of people he'd met dozens of times. She paused and then laughed, "Mickey always took the easy way out, took a drink instead of answering. Said that's what he'd likely do in the case of an attack anyway so he might as well get started."

"Mickey was the bloke who was with you the night we met, right?" John asked carefully. Despite his best efforts, he felt her tense.

"Guess so, why?" Her voice was guarded, the casualness gone.

Rather than answer directly, he changed tactics. "You know I love you, right?"

He felt her arms relax and she bent down to kiss him. It was an awkward angle, but he returned it enthusiastically, his hands coming up to tangle through her hair. She pulled back slowly and he let her, pressing a kiss to her stomach when she was sitting back up fully.

"Love you too." She grinned down at him, the tip of her tongue peeking out, and he was useless against that bit of flesh. He sat up, pulling her to him until she was perched in his lap where he could chase that tongue to his heart's content.

"What was that for?" Rose asked him when she had the breath to speak again.

"I don't tell you enough." It was true. He had an awful habit of taking her for granted.

She kissed him again, but pulled back immediately and looked at him pensively. "Are you mad that I don't tell you about growing up?"

"No, Rose, no. Of course not. Never. I know you'll tell me when you're ready. Or not, if you're never ready. And it's okay if you don't ever tell me. I'll love you regardless. I just want you to know that I love you no matter where you come from," he said hastily, catching her hand and lacing their fingers together.

She looked at him for another moment, absently chewing her lower lip, and then she rested her head on his shoulder, speaking into his chest. "I'm not ashamed of where I'm from, John, not really. It's just, you came from money and privilege. And I...didn't. I grew up on the Powell Estate." She paused and when he failed to react, continued on more quickly, "You know my dad died when I was a baby and my mum did the best she could, but it wasn't a good place to grow up. A lot of drugs and alcohol and meaningless sex. Had a couple of pregnancy scares. Dropped out of school for Jimmy, but that didn't turn out so well." The iron grip she had on his hand tightened exponentially and John had a sudden desire to throttle Jimmy. "Anyway, I went with Mickey for a bit. He was a decent bloke, my mum liked him, but he was...boring." John's shoulders shook at her words and she shook her head at him. "Shut it you. Anyway, I thought I could do better so I applied for the job at Bad Wolf Club. My mum didn't like it so much...I don't really talk to her anymore." She trailed off and John tightened his grip on her shoulders. Eventually she sat up and grinned at him. "But I met you!"

"I'm so glad you did." John said with great feeling, leaning forward to capture her lips with his own.

There was no more conversation for some time, only the sound of skin against skin and the occasional calls for a god. Afterwards when he was flat on his back on the couch and she was resting her head on his chest, he finally spoke again.

"We could visit your mum. If you wanted."

She raised her head to stare at him in disbelief. "Are you serious?" He had never made secret his dislike of the domestic, but for Rose Tyler, he was quite sure he would do anything. Even face a mother.

He grinned up at her, a filthy thing that was full of promise. "Want me to show you how much?"


End file.
